Though the present chapter in its title purports to tell of the days of the war for independence, in reality this is but an arbitrary heading, for we shall approach those days from the distance of a quarter of a century. Not that there were at the beginning of this period any distinct limits of demarcation from the days immediately preceding it: the contrary was the case. But it is needful for the chronicler that he have some point of departure in each of his progressive steps toward the goal of to-day. The opening period of this chapter, therefore, is about the year 1750. There are reasons for this, apart from the arbitrary whim of the historian. Though not exactly in the year dividing the century, yet about that time there began to be manifested a spirit of American nationality such as had never before been shown. For the first time the country began to appear to itself in the aspect of something more than an aggregation of colonies, and to examine itself whether it were not in truth a nation. From the Canadas to the Carolinas there began to be a feeling of cohesion, a tardy and half-awake recognition of unity of interests and race. There had come about a much-fractured and thinly stretched chain of communication and continuity from north to south, and this was having the effect of binding together the scattered settlements in a feeling of union, which was in a way effectual in the shaping of the history of women in America.
There were still--there ever must be--differences of manners and customs and even of thought imposed by the geographical dwellings of the women of the various sections; but there was withal a certain continuity and persistence of type, and this was gathering strength to survive the coming days of storm. During years of stress, in the face of treason to itself at the hands of its own daughters as well as of foreign foes, it did so survive and became the American woman of the early days of the republic; but there was much of vicissitude to be borne first--vicissitude not always recognized by the chroniclers of those days, for it was rather of manner than of contest. It was the old question of the survival of the fittest, with European complexity and American simplicity contending for the prize; and the battle, though won for the best, was not without compromise.
Before, however, fastening our gaze upon those yet distant days, let us look at the woman of America as she appeared in the period preceding that of storm. We have spoken of American simplicity, and, with all the coming of luxury during the later years of the southern colonies, this was still an attribute of the American woman; but it hardly applied to her dress or outer guise in any respect. In the very year, 1750, with which we have begun oir steps into the period of the Revolution, we find in thePennsylvania Gazettean advertisement that is of present interest to us as suggestive of the style of dress affected by the household of one of the most typical Americans of his day:
"Whereas on Saturday night last the house of Benjamin Franklin of this city, Printer, was broken open, and the following things feloniously taken away, viz, a double necklace of gold beads, a womans long scarlet cloak almost new, with a double cape, a womans gown, of printed cotton of the sort called brocade print, very remarkable, the ground dark, with large red roses, and other large and yellow flowers, with blue in some of the flowers, with many green leaves; a pair of womens stays covered with white tabby before, and dove colour'd tabby behind, with two large steel hooks, and sundry other goods, etc."
It is evident that the family of Benjamin Franklin himself were somewhat addicted to gauds and fripperies. About this same date, George Washington is found writing to England for certain articles of dress for his stepdaughter, Miss Custis, then but four years of age; and for this miniature bit of humanity he orders such things as packthread stays, stiff coats of silk, masks for her face, caps, bonnets, ruffles, necklaces, fans, silk and calamanco shoes, and leather pumps, while for her small hands were ordered eight pairs of kid mitts and four pairs of gloves. We are told on excellent authority that at this time the "Southern dames, especially of Annapolis, Baltimore, and Charleston, were said to have the richest brocades and damasks that could be bought in London." Small simplicity here; and the goodwives of New York and New England were learning to follow their leaders in the fashions.
Yet in manners there was in the North still a leaven of the old Puritan sternness. The Rev. Mr. Burnaby, who published a book calledTravels in America in 1759, records therein that when the captain of a British man-of-war, who had left his wife at Boston while he was on a cruise, was met by his spouse on his return, he very naturally kissed her in the sight of all men, the meeting taking place on the public wharf. But this act was against the statute which forbade kissing on the street as a great indecency, and the reprobate captain was promptly haled before the magistrates. It will hardly be believed that these gentlemen actually sentenced the Englishman to be whipped and had the sentence executed; and though to be whipped was not then considered a greater disgrace than now to incur a fine, it is nevertheless pleasant to a modern to read that the captain, when later he had become most popular in Boston, invited his judges to a dinner on board his ship and there had them triced up to the rigging and to each meted out the Scriptural forty stripes save one. But the incident shows us the moral atmosphere of New England at least in some of its parts; for it is unfortunately undeniable that in Connecticut the abominable practice of "bundling" was at the height of prevalence and popularity about 1750. The inevitable reaction came a little later, however, and the fulminations of Jonathan Edwards and his fellows at last came to have their effect; and by the end of the Revolution the custom was no longer recognized by any respectable community, with one or two marked exceptions, and these exceptions ceased to be such before the coming of the new century. Yet as late as 1775 we find the diary of Abigail Foote--from which we shall later make a more edifying extract--recording as a matter of course the fact of Ellen Foote, sister to the writer, bundling with a young man "till sun about 3 hours high." It is pleasant to read that a few weeks later the pair were "cried" and married.
Such were the curious contradictions of customs and morals found among our Puritan forefathers: a man might not kiss his wife in the street, but an unmarried woman might, if clothed, spend the night in bed with her lover. There were many other contradictions of manners. For instance, what could be more suggestive of utter simplicity than the diary of Abigail Foote, to which reference has just been made? I will quote an extract from it as an example of the life spent by young girls of her time. Abigail wrote in 1775, and she lived in Colchester, Connecticut. Here is a record of one of her days:
"Fix'd Gown for Prude Just to clear my teeth,--Mend Mother's Riding-hood,--Ague in my face,--Ellen was spark'd last night,--Mother spun short thread,--Fix'd two Gowns for Welch's girls,--Carded tow--spun linen--worked on Cheese Basket,--Hatchel'd Flax with Hannah and we did 51 lb a piece,--Pleated and ironed,--Read a sermon of Dodridge's,--Spooled a piece--milked the cows--spun linen and did 50 knots--made a broom of Guinea wheat straw,--Spun thread to whiten,--Went to Mr. Otis's and made them a swinging visit,--Israel said I might ride his jade,--Set a red Dye,--Prude stayed at home and learned Eve's Dream by heart,--Had two scholars from Mrs. Taylor's--I carded two pounds of whole wool and felt Nationly,--Spun harness twine,--Scoured the Pewter."
The information concerning Ellen is to us more suggestive than interesting, and why to card two pounds of wool should make anyone feel "Nationly" is not clear; but we can gather from the candid diary of young Mistress Foote a fair idea of the life of the young lady of that day. Varying with section in customs and application, it was yet typical in its way and speaks volumes of the simple and admirable training of the women of the period. But, being on the search for contradictions at this time, look upon this picture of the elaborate headdresses worn at that period, found in a letter from Anna Green Winslow:
"I had my heddus roll on. Aunt Storer said it ought to be made less, Aunt Deming said it ought not to be made at all. It makes my head ach and burn and itch like anything Mama. This famous Roll is not made wholly of a Red-Cow Tail but is a mixture of that & horsehair very coarse & and a little human hair of a yellow hue that I suppose was taken out of the back part of an old wig. But D. made it, all carded together and twisted up. When it first came home, Aunt put it on, and my new cap upon it; she then took up her apron and measured me & from the roots of my hair on my forehead to the top of my notions I measured above an inch longer than I did downward from the roots of my hair to the end of my chin. Nothing renders a young person more amiable than Virtue and Modesty without the help of fals hair, Red-Cow Tail or D. the barber."
In this letter, written in 1771, Mistress Winslow treats the matter jocularly and even wittily; but it was a grave enough affair, that of the "heddus," to the average dame of the day. We are told that "the front hair was pulled up over a stuffed cushion or roll, and mixed with powder and grease; the back hair was strained up in loops or short curls, surrounded and surmounted with ribbons, pompons, aigrettes, jewels, gauze, and flowers and feathers, till the structure was half a yard in height." Fashion in this wise had gone to even greater extremes in other lands; but there was not much of colonial simplicity about this sort of thing. We are not told directly whether Abigail Foote, the spinner and carder, wore such a monstrosity as that described when she went to pay her "swinging visit" to the Otis family; but even if she personally avoided such extremes, yet these flagrant contradictions were in constant evidence in the life and garb of the New England woman of that day, nor were her more southern sisters far behind her in their disregard of consistency, even though they manifested it in variant ways. In good and evil projections, all these things have survived and combined in the American woman of the present, though not in their old aspects.
It was about the beginning of the named period that there happened in Virginia a charming incident in which is displayed a feminine trait worthy of chronicle, even if universal in nationality. At the famous college of William and Mary there lived a bachelor professor by the name of John Camm. He had reached the period of life that we euphemistically call "middle age" when there came the end of his bachelorhood in this wise: Among those who listened to his exhortations--for he was preacher as well as professor--was Miss Betsy Hansford, of the family of the Hansford of "Bacon's Rebellion," known as rebel or martyr according to the sympathies of the speaker. She was a pretty maiden, and she was besieged with offers from the youth of the neighborhood, among others, from one who, having himself unsuccessfully pleaded his suit, bethought him of obtaining the services of the gifted divine as intermediary. The latter was willing to undertake the somewhat delicate part assigned to him, and he proceeded to show to the obdurate maiden that matrimony was a holy and much-to-be-desired state, fortifying his position with citations from the Bible. When it came to the quotation of texts, however, Miss Betsy proved herself an adept by telling Mr. Camm that her reason for refusing her young suitor might be discovered by an examination of II. Samuel, xii, 7. Home fared Mr. Camm in search of a Bible, for the young lady refused to lend him one, and there he found that the text read: "And Nathan said unto David, Thou art the man." Stronger hint could hardly be given and was not needed; for the Rev. John Camm and Betsy Hansford, spinster, were shortly afterward married. The Virginia Betsy thus fairly rivalled the Puritan Priscilla, and perhaps surpassed her in the delicacy of her hint.
But darker days were coming, when there was to be but little thought of marrying and giving in marriage; and already the shadow of those days was felt by womanhood throughout our land. If the women did not as yet feel the actual presence of the storm, they saw their husbands and brothers and fathers go heavily for the fear of the days to come, and they saw the land becoming divided into two hostile camps. The time was fast nearing when the women of the country would be called upon to show that they knew as well as any man of them all the meaning of patriotism, when they would become the very nerves, as the men were the sinews, of the land in its distress. Darker grew the days and more serious became the bearing of the women as well as the men. Nor would the former be excluded from the counsels of their country; though they might not take place in the public meetings, they inspired the thoughts of the men who there poured forth a flood of patriotism that could not be stayed. It was the gaze of his wife, as she sat in an 'agony of suspense among the audience, that roused Patrick Henry to the splendid effort that lost the "Parsons" their case and gave him that fame which culminated in the House of Burgesses when there was question between patriotism and prudence; and doubtless it was the home council that sent him forth to do his duty that day and kindle the fire that was to sweep over the land until British misrule had been "burnt and purged away." That is speculation, not history; but we know by record the spirit of the women when there came the days of proof.
Before, however, embarking upon the subject of the women of the Revolution proper, there may be described the personalities of two remarkable women who flourished during the period which is being considered, but whose lives were spent in the conflict of religious discussion and not that of arms. For some reason,--possibly because of national liberty of opinions and speech,--America has always been preeminently the nursery of the female religious fanatic. The eighteenth century, in its latter half, gave to the world two remarkable examples of the female apostle; and though but few vital memories of either survive, yet these women are worthy of place in this record for their singular, though limited and temporary, influence, and for the resemblance in certain ways, at least of one of them, to one of the most prominent feminine leaders in our own day.
About 1770, the influence and power of a woman named Anne Lee became acknowledged among a strange community, the Shakers. We are told that through her at this time "the present testimony of salvation and eternal life was fully opened, according to the special gift and revelation of God,"--words that are not unfamiliar to us of the present day in application to another woman,--and that she was received by the Society as their "spiritual Mother." Later we find that from "the light and power of God which attended her ministry, she was received and acknowledged as the firstMotheror spiritual parent, in the line female; and the second heir in the Covenant of Life, according to the present display of the Gospel." Even to this day, she is called by her few remaining followers "The Mother;" but she herself always claimed a yet higher and, to sober thought, blasphemous title, saying of herself on many occasions, "I am Anne,the Word." She was not an American by birth, but came to this country in 1774, attended by a few followers who believed in her pretensions,--her husband, Abraham Stanley, being among them, and on our shore attained fame and following.
On the voyage, the ship as we are told with much gravity, though the tale is hardly original--sprang a leak and was in grave peril of sinking; but the "Mother" put her own hands to the pumps, and under her supernatural force the water was soon ejected. Anne remained in New York about two years and then went to Nisqueuna; where she spent the remainder of her life amid her worshippers, save that, in 1781, she made a progress through several parts of the country, particularly New England, and was received with scorn by some and worship by others. She died at Nisqueuna in 1784, having in her brief residence in our country attained a notoriety which remained, in its way, unequalled for more than a century. The estimate in which she was held may best be judged from the concluding stanza of a "poem," written by one of her enthusiastic followers:
"How much they are mistaken who think that Mother's dead,When through her ministrations so many souls are fed!In union with the Father, she is the second Eve,Dispensing full salvation to all who do believe."
"How much they are mistaken who think that Mother's dead,When through her ministrations so many souls are fed!In union with the Father, she is the second Eve,Dispensing full salvation to all who do believe."
"How much they are mistaken who think that Mother's dead,
When through her ministrations so many souls are fed!
In union with the Father, she is the second Eve,
Dispensing full salvation to all who do believe."
Thus, in almost all ways,--in her title, in her assumption of a nature, but little, if at all, lower than that of the Deity, and in the devotion with which she inspired her followers,--Anne Lee was the prototype of the most notable woman of our day in America. But Anne Lee is now, a brief century after her death, held in memory only by a few uninfluential and rapidly lessening people; and in this also she may prove the true prototype.
The second and less noted of the two women religious leaders who will find record in this chapter was Jemima Wilkinson, who was born in Rhode Island in 1753, thus being a native American. When she was about twenty-three years old she was taken seriously ill, and during the illness suffered from suspended animation. Of this circumstance she took advantage by giving out that she had been dead, and that during her absence from the world she had been invested with divine attributes and authority to instruct mankind in religion. By virtue of her delegated powers she professed to be able to foretell the future, to discern the secrets of the heart, and to have the power to cure any disease; and, as is generally the case with such impostors, failure to heal was accounted for by want of faith in the uncured individual. All these pretensions have a familiar sound, and the present century cannot boast a great--or at least universal--advance in such matters beyond its predecessors; but Jemima made a dangerous innovation, not adopted by her rivals ancient and modern, when she professed to be able to work miracles and offered to demonstrate her powers in this respect by walking upon water. A frame was constructed on the banks of Seneca Lake, and a crowd assembled to see the test; but the matter ended in absurdity, for the prophetess, on driving up in an elegant carriage, descended to the shore and entered the lake to the depth of her ankles; then, turning to the assembled people, she inquired if they had faith that she could accomplish the miracle, since without that faith she could do nothing of herself. She received unanimous answer in the affirmative; whereupon, rather logically than effectively, she replied that in that case there was no need for her to perform the miracle, and incontinently returned to her carriage and drove away! This was ingenious, but hardly convincing, one would think; yet Jemima lost little, if any, of her prestige by this fiasco. She was called by her followers "The Universal Friend," perhaps with double meaning, since she was educated by the Friends, and in some ways professed the tenets of their sect,--and in 1790 led a small but enthusiastic band of worshippers to a tract in western New York, near Penn Van, where, at a place called Jerusalem, the inspired prophetess and thaumaturgist died in 1819. As late as 1850 some of her credulous followers still existed, but they are now practically extinct.
Though neither of these women exercised any formative effect upon the American woman of the present, they were typical of a certain class of perverted femininity, and remarkable in their resemblance to later idols of their kind, and are thus worthy of chronicle. They are well cleared from our way, however, and we may turn to more pleasant themes in the story of the truer representatives of American womanhood of the mid-eighteenth century.
The name of one--the first in many ways--of these representatives will involuntarily rise to the thought, if not to the lips, of every reader of this book,--the name of Mary Washington, the mother of him who is still generally regarded as the greatest of Americans. It may be that the fame of Mary Washington is vicarious, that it rests entirely upon the character and exploits of her great son; but this, as with most of the verdicts of history, is not well deserved. The greatness of George Washington may not be called in question; but it is no treason to assert--he would have been the first to acknowledge--that the foundations of that greatness, both of character and achievement, were the handiwork of his mother. She was herself great in all the qualities that make for grandeur in womanhood. Here is what is said of her by one of her biographers:
"She was remarkable for vigor of intellect, strength of resolution, and inflexible firmness wherever principle was concerned. Devoted to the education of her children, her parental government and guidance have been described by those who knew her as admirably adapted to train the youthful mind to wisdom and virtue. With her, affection was regulated by a calm and just judgment. She was distinguished, moreover, by that well marked quality of genius, a power of acquiring and maintaining influence over those with whom she associated. Without inquiring into the philosophy of this mysterious ascendancy, she was content to employ it for the noblest ends. It contributed, no doubt, to deepen the effect of her instructions."
This is critical rather than enthusiastic praise, and therefore the more worthy to be trusted. Nor are all Mrs. Washington's virtues here set down. She was a woman of exemplary piety of the good old quietist school; she was religious without being theological. She was a notable housewife and manager, and she earned the fine old title of "lady" by being indeed an almsgiver, though her lack of wealth limited her power in this respect. Her already quoted biographer, in her somewhat stilted but earnest language, says: "Her charity to the poor was well known; and having not wealth to distribute, it was necessary that what her benevolence dispensed should be supplied by domestic economy and industry. How peculiar a grace," adds our biographer, with well modulated enthusiasm, "does this impart to the benefits flowing from a sympathizing heart!"
La Fayette said of Madam Washington that she belonged to the times of Sparta and ancient Rome rather than to those of his own day; and Mrs. Sigourney, whose fame as a poet has now failed, but who once was held in high esteem, thus wrote on the occasion of laying the cornerstone for the monument erected at Fredericksburg:
"Methinks we see thee, as in olden times,Simple in garb, majestic and serene,Unawed by 'pomp and circumstance' in truthInflexible and with a Spartan zealRepressing vice and making folly grave.Thou didst not deem it woman's part to wasteLife in inglorious sloth, to sport awhileAmid the flowers, or on the summer wave,Then fleet like the ephemeron away,Building no temple in her children's hearts,Save to the vanity and pride of lifeWhich she had worshipped."
"Methinks we see thee, as in olden times,Simple in garb, majestic and serene,Unawed by 'pomp and circumstance' in truthInflexible and with a Spartan zealRepressing vice and making folly grave.Thou didst not deem it woman's part to wasteLife in inglorious sloth, to sport awhileAmid the flowers, or on the summer wave,Then fleet like the ephemeron away,Building no temple in her children's hearts,Save to the vanity and pride of lifeWhich she had worshipped."
"Methinks we see thee, as in olden times,
Simple in garb, majestic and serene,
Unawed by 'pomp and circumstance' in truth
Inflexible and with a Spartan zeal
Repressing vice and making folly grave.
Thou didst not deem it woman's part to waste
Life in inglorious sloth, to sport awhile
Amid the flowers, or on the summer wave,
Then fleet like the ephemeron away,
Building no temple in her children's hearts,
Save to the vanity and pride of life
Which she had worshipped."
Better sentiment than poetry, perhaps; but serving to show concerning Mary Washington the thought of a day nearer to her, and therefore truer in judgment than our own.
Withal, Madam Washington was a woman of the most perfect simplicity of bearing and of character. When her illustrious son returned to her after leading the armies of his country to their final victory, she talked with him of his perils and privations, of old friends, of her home and affairs; but said no word of the glory which he had won. To her he was still her son, and not the great general or even the beloved patriot. At the ball given that night in his honor she appeared "arrayed in the very plain, yet becoming garb worn by the Virginia lady of the olden time. Her address, always dignified and imposing, was courteous, though reserved. She received the complimentary attentions which were profusely paid her, without evincing the slightest elevation; and at an early hour, wishing the company much enjoyment of their pleasures, and observing that it was time for old people to be at home, retired, leaning, as before, on the arm of her son."
When La Fayette, exuberant Frenchman that he was, in her presence eulogized to the skies the prowess and deeds of his chief, the mother of that chief replied, with a simplicity admirably contrasting with the high-flown encomiums of the marquis: "I am not surprised at what George has done, for he was always a very good boy." Goodness and greatness were undisseverable in her mind. She was the Madame Mere of this country in station and the gift of a hero to the world; but greater contrast than that existing between the two women in all other respects--save perhaps in strength of will and purpose--could hardly be conceived; and the world will surely always accord the palm for true greatness to Madam Washington rather than to the mother of Napoleon.
It was in character and gift to the nation only, and not in incident, that the life of Madam Washington deserves chronicle; and others now demand notice in this chapter. Though the wife of Washington will be spoken of in an ensuing chapter, as being the first of the "first ladies of the land," mention must not be omitted of one whose very existence has been well-nigh forgotten--the sister of Washington. Of her, it is true, there is little to be gathered; but we are told that "she was a most majestic woman, and so strikingly like the brother that it was a matter of frolic to throw a cloak around her and place a military hat upon her head; and such was the perfect resemblance that had she appeared on her brother's steed, battalions would have presented arms and senates risen to do homage to the chief." Further she was not noted, and she lived her life in quiet, hardly coming within the radiance cast around by the deeds done by her illustrious brother. Only for his sake does she deserve notice here.
Hardly to that brother did the country owe greater debt than to the women whom it had nurtured. Patriotic as were the majority of American men, ready to suffer as well as to die in the cause of country, they were less patriotic, and their endurance was less splendid, than that shown by the women of our land. The patriotism evinced itself in many different ways; sometimes in mere sallies of wit, as with the famous Miss Franks, the daughter of a Jewish merchant. Rebecca Franks was celebrated for her wit and accomplishments. She was a loyalist at heart, and afterward married Sir Henry Johnson, an English general; but her keen jests at the expense of the British did not impress them with her devotion to their cause. When, at a ball in New York, Sir Henry Clinton, then holding on with rapidly relaxing grasp to English dominance in America, called to the musicians to playBritons, strike home!Miss Franks remarked that what he should have said was "Britons, go home!" Other ironies are credited to her; but none, probably, having such keen point as the repartee of a South Carolina maiden, in whose presence Colonel Tarleton spoke sneeringly of Colonel Washington and wished he "could see this paragon!" "Had you looked behind you at the battle of the Cowpens, Colonel Tarleton," replied the young lady, "you would have had that pleasure!" Whereat the hard-fighting dragoon, who on that day had run harder than he had fought, was much discomfited.
This was the spirit of the American patriot woman; but it often evinced itself in ways more serviceable to the cause of freedom. When Washington was encamped at White Marsh a surprise was planned against him; and it would undoubtedly have proved exceedingly disastrous had not the plan been overheard by Lydia Darrah, who lived in the house on Second Street, Philadelphia, opposite the mansion occupied by General Howe, where the plan was discussed, the family being supposed to be in bed. Lydia returned to her room after her espionage and had the nerve to remain quiet, as if asleep, when one of the officers knocked on her door to inform her that the conclave was over. Then, with quick ingenuity, she told her husband, a loyalist, that there was need of flour and that she must go to Frankford to procure it; and, having on this pretext secured egress from the British lines, she hastened to White Marsh. On her way she met Colonel Craig, of the light horse, and to him confided her secret; then, with lightened heart, she hastened back and managed to return unsuspected. The surprise consequently failed; but the part played by the demure little Quakeress was never guessed, though the British knew that some one had betrayed their plan to the American general. Had they suspected, it must have gone hard with Lydia; but she escaped the consequences of her brave act, which might have been death, while her country reaped the benefits thereof.
Not so marked by the evidence of personal courage, yet splendid in its patriotic self-sacrifice, was the spirit shown by Rebecca Motte when her house was occupied by the British soldiery under McPherson and besieged by Marion and Lee. McPherson's position was apparently impregnable; and he was holding out in anticipation of the coming of Lord Rawdon with a large force. Mrs. Motte was a firm friend of the American cause and had often bestowed generous hospitality upon the American officers, including Lee himself. To burn the house seemed to be the sole means of dislodging McPherson; but how could the friends of liberty destroy the property of one so devoted to the cause as Mrs. Motte, a widow, and one who had often nursed back to life some stricken Continental soldier? But Mrs. Motte overheard the discussion, and she assured the leaders that she "was gratified with the opportunity of contributing to the good of her country and should view the approaching scene with delight." Moreover, when the generals had reluctantly determined upon the measure, she gave them a bow and arrows, which had been imported from India, that by this means the flaming combustibles might be shot upon her roof. The plan was carried out and McPherson forced to surrender, while the house was burned to the ground. Mrs. Motte contemplated the destruction of her home with an unmoved smile, and busied herself in succoring and caring for the wounded--Tory as well as Whig, for suffering annihilates such distinctions--with a heart apparently as free from care and rejoicing in victory as if she had gained rather than lost by the day's work.
Another daughter of South Carolina, which State claimed Mrs. Motte as its own, displayed on more than one occasion qualities that fell nothing short of heroism. Martha Bratton was the wife of a revolutionary colonel, and she lived in a spot in York District that was exposed to all the storm of war that swept over the devoted State. Her husband was peculiarly obnoxious to the Tories, and Captain Huck or--Huyck, as it is spelled in the order of his commanding officer--was dispatched, after a severe defeat inflicted upon the loyal forces by troops under Colonel Bratton, to compel by force the wife to betray the husband into British hands. A soldier under Huck's command actually placed a reaping-hook at Mrs. Bratton's throat when she refused to reveal the whereabouts of her husband, and Huck did not interfere; but his second in command, with more decency, even if with a suspicion of insubordination, interposed in the lady's behalf, though not until she had looked death in the face for a time and had not recoiled. Threats were of no avail, and finally Huck abandoned his purpose as impracticable. The next day brought vengeance upon him for his brutality, for he was attacked by Colonel Bratton with a far smaller force, himself killed, and his troops utterly routed. The officer who had interfered in behalf of Mrs. Bratton was taken prisoner and might have been hanged by the enraged Whigs had not the lady fortunately recognized him in time to preserve his life by her story of debt to him. Another anecdote of Mrs. Bratton attests her heroic firmness of character. Ammunition was very scarce with both patriots and Tories, and a portion of that sent by Governor Rutledge to the former had been confided to the care of Colonel Bratton and by him placed in an outhouse on his place. News of this came to some loyalists, who at once, in the absence of Colonel Bratton, organized a foray to seize the powder. But Mrs. Bratton was warned in time, and she immediately laid a train of powder to the outhouse, took her stand at the end of the train, and when the enemy appeared set fire to the train and blew up the outhouse with its valuable contents. The officer in command of the forayers was furious at being thus outwitted and demanded to know the perpetrator of the deed. Mrs. Bratton did not flinch. "It was I who did it," she replied. "Let the consequence be what it will, I glory in having prevented the mischief contemplated by the cruel enemies of my country." One hardly knows whether the more to admire the gallant bearing of the lady or the coolness which led her to await the actual coming of the enemy and not to destroy such valuable property until the necessity for doing so became immediate.
These were but types, though pronounced ones, of the spirit that was almost universal among the patriot women of America during those stormy and fateful days. It was to be found dominant throughout the land, from New England to the Carolinas, though of course it was more evident, and possibly more fervent, in those districts where the war actually set its foot. In feeling at least, women, when once aroused, are more intensely militant than men, as they are more patient and constant under suffering; and it was to the women quite as much as to the men that our country owed its escape from the British yoke. The display of the feeling varied in its manifestations; but that feeling was ever present in the hearts of the American women of the revolutionary times. The ladies of Boston who abandoned, in the days of oppression, their cup of tea that the abhorrent taxes might not be enforced showed the same true patriotism, only needing opportunity to call it to higher pitch, as did their sisters who bore the insults and outrages of a brutal soldiery when Tarleton rode across stricken South Carolina and planted a hatred that bore fruit in the ambush and the night attack. The women of New England bound upon the backs of husbands and sons and even fathers the old knapsack and placed in their hands the old musket and sent them forth, ready to go, yet full of fears for those left behind, to Lexington and Bunker Hill.
It must not, however, be supposed that all the enthusiasm, all the depth of feeling, all the patriotism even, was in the camp, feminine or masculine, of the Continentals. Among the Tories, or Loyalists, as they liked best to call themselves, there were many hearts which beat with true devotion to their country, yet which believed that country's best duty, because its highest, was to be found in loyalty to the king. Especially was this the case in New York and Philadelphia, which were the strongholds of British possession. It is true that there were many, women as well as men, even more of the former, whose loyalty was but lip-service, who cherished in their hearts a devotion to the cause of freedom to which they dared not give utterance for fear of oppression; but there were also many who loved the flag of England as the banner of all that was truest and best, and who looked upon the resisters of British authority as rebels of the baser sort. They were as honest as were their opponents, and they were as fanatical; and they are entitled to the same respect for their devotion to a losing cause as are their rivals for their loyalty to one that was victorious.
In 1778 there was held in the staid city of Philadelphia a certain entertainment given by the officers of Sir William Howe to their general, which was to pass into history under the name of the Meschianza, or the Medley. It was a most gorgeous pageant, wherein were tournament and feat and dance; and to it came most of the belles of Philadelphia, forgetful of or uncaring for the army of their brethren, ragged and barefooted, and still suffering from their winter of starving amid the snows of Valley Forge. The loyalist ladies were in full feather, more literally than would now be the case, the nodding plume then adorning the head of the dame as frequently as it did the helmet of the soldier. Present are such famous toasts as Miss Becky Franks, Miss Peggy Chew, Miss Nancy White, Miss Becky Bond, and others. The Misses Shippen, equal to any in beauty and wit, do not grace the occasion by their charms; they have fully intended to be present, and have even ordered Turkish dresses for the occasion, 'since fancy costumes areen règle; but there has been issued a parental ukase to the contrary, Mr. Edward Shippen at the last moment declining to allow his daughters to make merry with the foes of his country, or it may be that the appearance of the Turkish dresses in the eyes of his Quaker neighbors has influenced his decision, for Mr. Shippen is not a patriot. But there are enough without these ladies, and the merriment is unalloyed. It is a typical scene, this of the Meschianza, even though never before has the revel been of such ornate character; for the belles of New York and Philadelphia and the macaronis of the army often forget the perils of war in the delights of the social function, unmindful of the waxing or waning of the patriot or the royal cause.
Of those present at the Meschianza there was one whose romance merits note in these pages, Miss Peggy Chew. Among the officers who on that day and night tilted and danced with the best was one Major John Andre, and his motto of "No Rival" was carried out at least in his connection with Miss Chew. That they were betrothed was the general belief; that they were lovers may be set down as certain. But a little more than two years later Major Andre, technically if not actually guilty of being a spy, was led beneath the fatal tree at Tappan, and poor Peggy Chew's romance was over forever. If we could leave her in her sorrow to weep for her lover and the overthrown cause of her king, she might pass down as one of the ideal heroines of sad romance; but fact somewhat hampers our sympathy with the lady, for some seven years after the death of Andre, Miss Chew married General John Eager Howard, the staunch fighter of the Cowpens; and the general, as was but natural, always denied, even with strange oaths, that his wife had ever cared for one who to him was but a common spy.
So the belle of the Meschianza changed her political faith with her love loyalty; but another who has been named in connection with that entertainment shamed many a woman in faith of another kind. With her sisters, Miss Peggy Shippen had been held from the revel; but she had been toasted there. Yet she became, but a short time afterward, the wife of one of the most gallant soldiers that ever drew sword for the cause of America, Benedict Arnold. Had he been as true as he was brave he might have left an honored name; and, even as it was, though history has not yet done justice in this wise, Arnold's bitter resentment toward the ungrateful Continental Congress was not without reason and excuse; nevertheless, his action resulting therefrom was unpardonable. In his treason, as was but natural, his splendid services were forgotten by his countrymen; but his wife was true to him in his degradation as in his glory. In an interview with Washington at West Point she even went so far as to accuse the commander-in-chief of conspiring to murder her infant as well as to degrade her husband; and we can forgive, as did Washington, even this to the tortured woman. During his residence in England after the Revolution, Arnold said to an Englishman who had met him casually and, being unaware of his personality, knowing only his nationality, asked him for some letters of introduction to be used in a purposed trip to America: "Sir, I am the only American in the world whose introduction would do you more harm than good; I am Benedict Arnold." There was here more than the bitterness of ostracism; but that bitterness, which made all his life a torment, never repelled his wife or caused her faith and love to swerve. She was loyal with even a higher loyalty than that given by her sisters of America to the cause of her country, for she was faithful in heart as in deed to one who had in all ways proved unworthy of faith.
It was this same Arnold who was mentioned in the diary of another belle of Philadelphia, Miss Sally Wister, when she wrote: "Our brave, our heroic General Washington was escorted by fifty of the Life Guard, with drawn swords. Each day he acquires an addition to his goodness. We have been very anxious to know how the inhabitants of Philadelphia have fared. I understand that General Arnold, who bears a good character, has the command of the city." She was writing from the Foulks estate, in Montgomery County, where she was staying for a time, and her diary, which concludes with the above quoted entry, is full of such warm expressions of patriotism that none can doubt that Miss Sally, who died a spinster, placed the cause of America even before the attractions of such men as Major Stoddert and Captain Dandridge, who vainly attempted to influence her to "change her condition," as the quaint old phrase puts it.
The days of the Revolution were full of romance as well as of sterner history, and while the women of Massachusetts and the Carolinas, as well as those of interior Pennsylvania and rural New York, proved themselves made of sterner stuff than is the custom to expect from their sex, the belles of the great cities--great only for their times--of New York and Philadelphia flirted and danced and jested and made themselves in all ways agreeable to the red-clad soldiers of England. It may be that these last ladies unwittingly and against their will served the cause of their country by enervating the soldiers of the king and keeping them from the sterner training which was making hardy veterans of the Continentals. But romance and the stern aspects of war were not infrequently blended in strange fashion, as in the case of Mary Piper--better known as Polly Piper--of Boston, who was loved by a British soldier named Samuel Lee. Before the beginning of the struggle the Pipers moved to Concord; and when the "regulars" marched upon that place to secure the ammunition which was reported to General Gage as being stored there, Lee went with his regiment. But his heart was not in his work: love had taught him something, and he no longer, as at first, looked upon all Americans as benighted savages and their cause as flat treason. Miss Polly had scorned his suit as that of a British soldier, and this fact had worked a result. In the "running fight" at Concord he did not fire his musket; but he was shot as he ran from the field and was carried, severely wounded, into a house where the stricken were being cared for. A woman bent over him; and he opened his eyes to meet those of Polly Piper. He recovered, but not to serve again as a soldier of England; he returned no more to the red flag, but married Miss Polly and lived quietly in Concord until his death in 1790. Thus love won from the enemies of America at least one sword, and thus was romance justified of its works.
The patriotic spirit which flamed throughout the land burned with no steadier or more brilliant glow than among the women. All are familiar with the famous picture entitledThe Spirit of '76; but that picture is incomplete. The octogenarian and the boy should be waved upon their march by the wife and the mother, sending husband and son forth to peril or death, while they themselves turn with a smile to the bearing of privation or actual starvation. Not more strongly and nobly did the "spirit of '76" flourish in the hearts of the sons of the oppressed country than in those of its daughters, nor was the response more splendid.
There was no distinction of high and low. The stately dame, lapped in luxury all her days and a stranger to hardship or even anxiety, gave up to her country's cause her dearest joys, and not only sent husband or son to the forefront of the battle, but herself, if she was in the path of war, bore unflinchingly the outrages of an incensed soldiery and saw her home given to the flames and the very lives of herself and her children threatened, and yet thought it not too great a price to pay for her country's liberty. The wife of the humble tiller of the soil, with perhaps even more complete, though hardly as recognized, surrender of self, sent forth with cheery words the breadwinner, the support of herself and her children, and turned with grand courage to keep them and herself from hunger, while her goodman was fighting for the rescue of his native land from oppression. Each bore her part, and all with no reserve of gift.
The ebullition of the feminine spirit of those days was often little less than fanatical in nature. Women do nothing by halves; they are faithful lovers and enthusiastic haters, and they are not always governed in either feeling by the monitions of unbiased justice or even judgment. In a letter from Mrs. Hannah Winthrop, of Cambridge, we find a reference to the fight at Lexington, which, in all its stiltedness of language, shows the fiery and bitter hatred that was held by patriot women for the enemies of their country: "Nor can she ever forget, nor will old Time ever erase, the horrors of that midnight cry, preceding the bloody massacre at Lexington, when we were roused from the benign slumbers of the season by beat of drum and ringing of bells, with the dire alarm that a thousand of the troops of George the Third had gone forth to murder the peaceful inhabitants of the surrounding villages. A few hours, with the dawning day, convinced us the bloody purpose was executing; the platoon firing assured us that the rising sun must witness the bloody carnage. Not knowing what the event would be at Cambridge, at the return of these bloody ruffians, and seeing another brigade dispatched to the assistance of the former, looking with the ferocity of barbarians, it seemed necessary to retire to some place of safety, till the calamity was passed."
The lady is evidently overfond of a certain epithet of sanguinary denotation, nor can she be complimented upon her high-flown style; but it is evident that behind the affectation of phrase there is an intense earnestness of hatred that stands as typical of its sexual source. To the patriot women of America the British were "ruffians" and "barbarians" and the most bloody-minded of human beings just as to the Loyalists the Continentals were "rebels" and "traitors," for whom hanging would have been a punishment so mild as to suggest weakness in the administrator. To the patriot woman poor old George III. was the very incarnation of all evil and malice, just as to the Tory lady another George was the vilest of ingrates to lead the armies of the rebels against the authority of so gracious a king as he of England. Both were honest in their extremes of fanaticism and so may well be pardoned, and even admired, for those extremes, with their resultant enthusiasm in the cause of freedom or loyalty.
Meanwhile there existed, though hardly flourished, the gentler arts among the women of America; and Mercy Warren, wife of James Warren and daughter of James Otis, she to whom Mrs. Winthrop's letter was addressed, wielded a more refined and therefore more effective pen than that of her friend, being the one female writer of her day who may be called notable. She was hardly less enthusiastic than Mrs. Winthrop in the cause of liberty, and she was possessed of a very respectable gift of satire which made her writings a power in their way. When there was discussed among the colonists the plan of suspending all commerce with Great Britain because of the vexed matter of the taxes, Mrs. Warren wrote a long poetic effusion which exemplifies her gift of satire, of which the best lines are these: